


The Christmas Party

by brionyjae



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-26
Updated: 2011-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brionyjae/pseuds/brionyjae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you combine Torchwood with Christmas, alcohol, and Weevils? Obviously... The Christmas Party!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Christmas Party

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a quote from the Torchwood novel _Risk Assessment_ by James Goss.

_'I don't feel so good,' groaned Ianto. 'That rum...'  
'You drank it?' laughed Agnes.  
'Why?' murmured Ianto. 'What was I supposed to do?'  
'Oh,' said Jack loudly. 'What with your head for spirits, I was just assuming you were pretending. We don't want a repeat of the Christmas party. The poor lamb threw up over a Weevil. Waste of a great single malt.'_

 _Risk Assessment_ _(James Goss)_

 _  
_

* * *

All in all, this was shaping up to be one of Torchwood's best Christmas parties they'd ever had. Jack would know. Most years, they hadn't even been able to _have_ a Christmas party – a special gift from the Rift usually fell into their hands, cancelling any half-hearted attempts at organising one. And the times that they _had_ held a party...

In Jack's honest opinion, they'd been rather lame. A group of people trying to drown their sorrows, their bitterness... their lives.

 _Pa_ -thetic.

But this year – this year was different. His team – Tosh, Owen, Gwen, _Ianto_ – these guys were different, more than a team to Jack. They were his reason for staying on Earth, simply put. And so it was nice – bloody brilliant in fact – to be able to spend a Christmas Eve with his best friends, with the Rift blissfully quiet.

And perhaps it was this difference that had... _unlocked_ Jack.

Oh yes.

The mighty and ever-so-slightly old fashioned Captain Jack Harkness had allowed himself to get drunk.

Ensue: complete chaos.

"Iaaan-toooo!"

Wow. Was that really what his voice sounded like? Mmmm. It really was a lovely voice. No wonder Ianto's eyes always seemed to gleam over whenever Jack groaned it during –

"He's gettin' us all a top up, he is," Owen waved a hand importantly, which in turn seemed to throw his balance off kilter – luckily, Tosh wasn't about to complain that Owen's hand had _somehow_ _happened_ to find itself curled around her neck. Definitely thanks to the wine she'd drunk. Perhaps that was why her cheeks were developing an attractive blush...

"What's this about topping?" Jack flashed a dazzling smile at Tosh out of a happy impulse, morphing it into a leer for Owen.

"He's getting more alcohol!" Owen grinned. It dawned on Jack that perhaps it was lucky – if not disappointing – that Owen hadn't caught Jack's intended meaning.

Jack sighed dramatically and looked around for something to act as leverage to help get him to his feet. He couldn't recall their exact reasoning for sitting on the floor of the boardroom, having shoved the table and chairs to one side. The wooden floor wasn't that comfortable, was it? Jack's gaze found Gwen's head, and logically decided that it would do quite nicely. He planted a hand on her skull and tried to untangle his feet – and quickly discovered why the floor had sufficed – or to be more accurate, why the floor had been necessary.

"Look at you, stranded on the ground," Gwen giggled, swaying under the pressure of Jack's grasp. "Captain Hack Jarkn – wait..."

Jack decided to salvage what he could of his dignity and removed his hand from Gwen's head, straightening his posture with an air of grandeur.

"At least I can still speak coherently," he pointed out. "Co- _herent_ -lee..."

Distinctive footsteps cut into Jack's words – footsteps he could recognise anywhere in any state.

" _Ian_ -to!" Jack raised his eyes to look at the imposing figure above him, and didn't bother to hide another beaming grin.

" _Ja_ -ack," Ianto mirrored, and dropped to the floor beside him with what Jack thought was unfair grace. Somehow, even though he'd drunk as much wine as the rest of them, Ianto still looked relatively sober. Bloody Welsh. His skin was looking a little flushed though... Jack reached over and started unbuttoning Ianto's waistcoat, ignoring Ianto's surprised gasp and Owen's yelp of shock.

"Oi! Surely you're not too drunk to realise that _we're still here_!"

"He just looked _far_ too hot, is all," Jack practically purred at Ianto, discarding the silky waistcoat unceremoniously to one side. It was impossible to discern what Ianto was more scandalised about. Jack could almost see the reproaches fighting each other to escape Ianto's lips...

Jack came up with a resolution to the fight that _didn't_ require Ianto to speak at all.

"Is it too much to expect the alcohol we were promised?"

He had to hand it to him – Owen was persistent.

Jack removed his lips from Ianto's and sat back, a smug glow darting about him as he savoured the glazed looks he was receiving from the girls, and Ianto himself. Maybe Ianto wasn't that sober after all. Jack reached over and took the bottle that Ianto had brought down.

"Ah! Good idea, Ianto! I had been saving this for a special occasion, and this is the perfect moment!"

He was holding a bottle of single malt whiskey – his favourite brand, of course. The only alcohol he actually bought, always kept on hand, rarely broken into. Except... when needed.

"Yeah, yeah, enough with the dramatics." Owen was the only one to remain immune to Jack's charms, and held up his empty glass with an amused grin.

"A toast!" Jack proclaimed, and set to pouring everyone a measure of amber liquid.

"To what?" Tosh gave Jack one of her optimistic smiles. Jack grinned inwardly at Owen's hand, which had left Tosh's neck, but settled on the floor so that it was minimally brushing Tosh's own hand. He slid his eyes to Gwen, who was watching them all with her soft eyes – approving. Finally Jack's eyes were drawn to Ianto. The perfect flush to his cheeks, his lips curving into the smallest of grins, and an eyebrow beginning to raise, an amused curiosity to Jack's gaze.

His team. No – his friends.

"To us," Jack said simply.

 _Oh_ yeah. That was how proper liquor was supposed to taste.

"Right," Gwen placed her drained glass on the floor – Jack couldn't help noticing a near invisible wince run through Ianto – no doubt worried about a ring stain. "Thank you all for the stecpacu– erm, _spectacular_ evening... but I really should call Rhys, have him pick me up. It's past midnight, and I did promise him that I'd see him into Christmas Day in style..."

"You're almost worse than Jack," grumbled Owen, but started hauling himself up as well. "You, er, you coming Tosh? Don't mind sharing a cab – they're so bloody expensive, all out to make a profit, I'll tell you that."

Tosh picked herself up and sent Owen a different kind of smile.

"Sounds lovely."

Jack hid a grin and this time was a lot more successful in getting to his feet. Conversely, the whiskey seemed to have done him some good – he was more used to it than wine, he supposed. He couldn't help feeling a tad accomplished when Ianto had to conceal a slight stagger under the pretence of scooping up his waistcoat.

"Don't come in tomorrow – oh... I guess I mean today. I'll only call if the world is ending. Merry Christmas, guys!" Jack was far from discouraged by his team leaving for the night. In fact, he had some business to be getting to anyway...

Ianto-time.

Jack and Ianto walked back up into the main part of the Hub to say goodnight to the others. The cog wheel alarm sounded, filling the quiet for one, two, three – and then it was just them. All alone.

"They're really rather, well, _cute_ – Tosh and Owen I mean," Ianto met Jack's eyes with an uncharacteristic hint of shyness. He hadn't put his waistcoat back on, and the top button of his shirt had come undone. Even Ianto's hair was mussed – not as much as if he'd been asleep, but just enough to show that he had let his perfect appearance slip. Leaving Jack with a very pretty sight to drool over. Figuratively. Being drunk didn't turn Jack into a complete sop, after all.

"They are," Jack hummed in agreement. He grinned and waved the bottle of whiskey that he'd carried up in Ianto's face. "Now. Seems a shame to let this go to waste, doesn't it? We can have a little party of our own."

Ianto gave a trademark eye-roll but graced Jack with a small smile.

"The boardroom isn't going to clean itself, you know." Ianto injected some discipline into his tone – oh, Jack loved it when Ianto got bossy...

"By the time our night ends, we're going to have more than just the boardroom to clean up," Jack winked at Ianto, and took Ianto's groan as a sign to capture him in another kiss. He could definitely feel the lightening effect of the alcohol on his brain – although, the whiskey seemed to have affected _Ianto_ even more quickly... he felt himself being embraced by Ianto, Jack's skin tingling where Ianto stroked it, and as Ianto deepened the kiss, a shot of desire travelled from Jack's brain down to –

"Patience," Jack broke away marginally from Ianto, to rest their foreheads together. "I have more planned for us yet."

"That must be a first," Ianto got out – Jack couldn't deny the trill that ran through his blood in making Ianto breathless. He quirked an eyebrow and left Ianto briefly to retrieve two clean tumbler glasses, and poured them another measure of whiskey.

"This time... a toast to you, Jones, Ianto Jones," Jack said softly, raising his glass. Ianto blushed lightly, looking for once as if he didn't quite know what to say. He settled with touching his glass to Jack's, and they both downed the liquid in unison.

"Right!" Jack licked his lips exaggeratedly, smirking as Ianto's eyes were caught by the movement. "Let there be music!"

A couple of taps to his wrist-strap, and the first slightly tinny notes of Glenn Miller's 'Moonlight Serenade' lit up the Hub. Ianto smiled properly this time, and raised an eyebrow at Jack.

"Let me guess: this is the song you use for all your pick-ups?" His eyes were soft, and Jack took his glass from him and set it down with his own. He slipped an arm around Ianto's waist and pressed his hand lightly against the small of Ianto's back.

"Only the special ones," he whispered into Ianto's hair.

Jack entirely blamed the alcohol for that one. Had Ianto heard him? For a leaping second – Jack's heart hammering his throat – he was sure that he had, as Ianto had frozen momentarily in his embrace – but then Ianto slid his fingers into Jack's and gave them a warm squeeze, settling his other hand around Jack's waist. Mirroring Jack. Completing him. And suddenly, Jack didn't give a damn whether Ianto had heard or not – in fact, he hoped he had.

Definitely the alcohol.

Slowly, carefully, they swayed to the warbling music. Ianto's fingers were flexing gently around Jack's shirt, as if trying to get a tighter hold on him, and Jack reciprocated by pressing their chests closer together, impossibly close, legs tangled, fabric of their shirts non-existent, air between them evaporated – gone.

But.

The seeming lack of air seemed to be making Jack short of breath – gasping in time to the music, too fast – okay, the song had been such a bad idea, how could he not be reminded of Rose, and the Doctor and – they were gone, both of them, just like Ianto would be –

Ianto's hand smoothed itself up his back and crept over his shoulder, to cup Jack's chin.

"Jack."

Jack felt rather than heard his voice, and it was so soft, so inviting, that he let Ianto's hand guide his head so that he could meet Ianto's eyes. Ianto's thumb stroked Jack's cheekbone.

"Ianto..." his voice was crackly, barely audible over the music, almost lost in the melody. "I..."

Jack dipped his head forwards to touch Ianto's forehead. His tongue wouldn't loosen – "I" what? _What_? He felt Ianto smile against his lips.

"Don't," he murmured, and traced the tip of his tongue across Jack's bottom lip. Jack's eyes fluttered shut and he sighed into Ianto's mouth, tasting the whiskey, tasting Ianto himself –

 _Wait_. That incessant beeping was _not_ Glenn Miller's creation.

Jack nudged Ianto's nose with his own, and they broke apart, fingers still clenched around the other's. He held Ianto's gaze for a moment before glancing around the Hub, taking in the flashing monitor on Tosh's desk.

Of course.

It would have been asking too much for the Rift to be _entirely_ silent on Christmas.

Ianto sent Jack an apologetic smile, although what for Jack wasn't certain – shouldn't _he_ be the one apologising? However, the beeping was still piercing their ears, and Jack gave an annoyed huff and flicked 'Moonlight Serenade' off. They clumsily disentangled themselves and crossed the Hub to check the Rift monitor.

"There's been a Weevil sighting, over at Splott. Why is it _always_ Splott?" Ianto gave a wry grin. Jack shuffled closer to peer over Ianto's shoulder, his interest springing up at once.

"A Weevil! Perfect!" A grin spread over Jack's face – the adrenalin from the pursuit, the sheen of sweat covering Ianto's brow by the time they'd caught it – that was his idea of a great –

"Jack! You seem to be missing the obvious here." Ianto waved a hand in front of his face to capture his attention, and Jack blinked at it, unexpectedly finding his balance rather precarious.

"Believe me Ianto, that's all I'm thinking about," Jack smirked and encircled his arms around Ianto's waist. Ianto batted at them with his hand.

"No – we're both too drunk to drive! Idiot."

"Oh. Right."

Jack refused to be put off. Besides, there was a simple enough solution. Anything to go Weevil hunting with Ianto.

"Well, that's an easy fix," Jack said after a pause. "One bullet, and bam!" Jack grinned at the way his voice echoed around the spacious Hub. " I'm sober." He made to let go of Ianto and ascend to his office, where he vaguely knew his coat and Webley were.

...and then realised he couldn't.

Ianto's hands had clamped around his forearms, holding him in place. His back was as stiff as a board, uncomfortably jutting into Jack's chest.

"Uh... Ianto?" Jack tried to turn Ianto so he could see his face, but Ianto wasn't budging.

"You... want to kill yourself so that you're sober enough to drive to Splott."

Not even a question... a statement. Measured words, but the tone wasn't as careful as Ianto would usually care it to be – for once, he couldn't conceal it.

"Well, yeah... it's the quickest, easiest way. Can't let that Weevil run loose while we take cold showers and drink a gallon of water. I mean – cold showers? Talk about a turn off."

Jack's chuckle forced itself into the stone silence.

"Ianto..."

This time, Ianto allowed Jack to twist around him in his arms, although he refused to move his gaze any higher than Jack's neck.

"It isn't all bad – this might be your only chance to just let it all out your frustration at me and fire away!"

For a split second, Ianto's face turned to ice – a moment later, it shattered, and Jack knew that his stab at humour had been a terrible mistake. Ianto slumped forwards into Jack and buried his face in his shoulder. Short fingernails scrabbling at Jack's back, desperately tugging at the fabric. Jack smoothed his hands, back and forth, over Ianto's shoulders, the warm fuzz of alcohol being replaced by a sick wave of guilt.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that... I'm sorry..."

Jack tightened his hold on the shivering Ianto, cursing himself. Sure, dark humour was one of his coping mechanisms... but that didn't mean it would reassure Ianto too.

"I... don't like watching you die," Ianto breathed into Jack's ear, so shakily that Jack almost didn't understand him. "I don't like seeing you in pain... and I can't stop myself from thinking that – that you won't – you won't come ba–"

"Ianto, listen to me." Jack kissed Ianto's hair softly and closed his eyes. Sent out a hopeful prayer that neither of them would remember this in the morning. And then another one that they would. "No matter what happens, I will always come back for you. Always. And I know that I – that I have you waiting for me when I do."

The last words were whispered, as if saying them any louder would press more doubt into them. As it was, Jack fumbled with them – was he being too presumptuous? But... waking from death with Ianto there to ground him again, anchor him to life... it made it bearable. And – Ianto _was_ always there.

"When you come back... when you open your eyes... just for a moment, it looks like you –" Ianto took a shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling against Jack's. "– like you don't know what you're coming back to."

A pause. A shiver.

"I don't." Jack squeezed his eyelids down tighter before reopening his eyes. The blur of the Hub swam in Jack's vision, but he focused on Ianto, his body entwined with his. "That's why I need you, Ianto."

Ianto gave an inaudible sniff and Jack gently pulled Ianto's chin back, wiped the teary evidence of his atypical outburst from his cheeks. His lips trembled into an aching smile, and finally, Ianto nodded. Jack captured his lips in a sweet, short kiss before taking Ianto's hand, weaving their fingers together, and led him up the staircase to Jack's office.

After Jack retrieved his Webley from his coat, they went back to the Hub area to sit on the couch, side by side. The gun revolved in his fingers, the weight spinning steadily like a pendulum.

"You ready?" Jack offered a smile to Ianto. Setting his jaw, Ianto pushed his head into a nod, fingers gripping Jack's securely.

Gaze unwavering from Ianto's, Jack settled his Webley against his temple.

And squeezed the trigger.

* * *

Waking up began with... everything. At once. It wasn't peaceful, graceful – air shoved itself deep inside his lungs, light and pain tore at his skin, his eyelids – ripped them open to stare into a sea of colour, of _life_.

Of Ianto.

Jack blinked, once, twice, and realised with a jolt he was looking straight into Ianto's eyes.

And right on cue, it all rushed back. The Christmas Party. The alcohol. The dancing. _Ianto_. The Weevil sighting...

The Weevil! Right.

It was amazing how odd it felt to suddenly be sober. Usually, you worked your way back to a state in which you _could_ think. A _slow_ progression. Now that his mind was clear – it was almost like working on fast-forward in comparison.

He sat up slowly, so as not to shock Ianto. Even more than he already seemed to be, that was. Jack hadn't noticed before... but Ianto's glazed eyes were more obvious now that his own weren't.

"Thank you," Jack said softly to Ianto, lifting a hand up to hold the side of Ianto's head. Ianto nodded speechlessly, blinking so that his eyelashes brushed Jack's fingers. He lowered his eyes, and Jack followed his gaze – ah. Ianto's hands were covered with Jack's blood. And so was Jack, come to think of it.

The Weevil could wait a few more minutes.

Jack took Ianto to his bathroom and methodically checked Ianto over for blood. As well as himself, of course. Nothing could be done to save his shirt, though, at least for the moment – how on earth had he managed to... _splatter_ so much blood everywhere? Perhaps blowing his brains out hadn't been the best way to do it after all... Jack suddenly cringed and turned his focus back to Ianto.

"I think I need a drink, before we go." It was the first thing Ianto had spoken since Jack had returned to life. Well. Who was Jack to say no? Besides, he was a firm believer in the healing powers of whiskey. Really.

On the whole, their pursuit of the Weevil was all a bit of an anti-climax. This Weevil – Jack mentally dubbed him "Brian" – seemed to be more spooked by the fact that he had managed to find his way out of the sewers and into a nearby park, and really just appeared to be lost. A well-timed sting of Jack's sedative needle had prevented it from lashing out at Ianto, and he lay in a stinking heap on the grass.

"Ianto?" Jack looked over at him, breathing heavily from exertion. Ianto's face was pale in the moonlight – what time was it now? – and the slight shine of sweat on his forehead didn't look as sexy as it usually did.

"I'm fine," Ianto held out a small smile for Jack, admittedly far from reassuring, but Jack nodded.

"I'll get the SUV. No way we can drag him all the way back. You just... wait here, okay? I won't be long."

It was Ianto's turn to nod. Jack headed across the park and broke into a light jog to reach the hastily parked SUV. It only took a total of three minutes – but when Jack stopped the car next to Ianto and the Weevil, a jolt in his stomach made him fling open the car door and swipe his head from side to side.

"Ianto?"

A coughing noise made Jack spin right around and stumble forwards a few steps – and then exhale a puff of breath when he saw Ianto.

Ianto was doubled over next to the Weevil, hands on his knees, having thrown up all the alcohol he'd consumed, and probably whatever he had eaten beforehand as well. Something inside Jack tugged at him, and he took the few floating steps that stood between him and Ianto.

Didn't say anything, just placed a hand on Ianto's back and started rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. Couldn't blame this show of sentiment on the alcohol, unfortunately. Jack blissfully ignored this and defiantly ran his other hand through Ianto's hair.

"I'm sorry," Ianto said eventually, his voice low and gravelly. He straightened up slowly, wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve – evidently way past caring. His whole body was shivering violently, and Jack cursed himself for letting Ianto out in the wee hours of the morning in such a thin shirt.

"Come here," he murmured, and gathered Ianto up in his arms. He stroked his hair for a few more seconds, trying to transfer his own body warmth to the younger man.

"Alright. Come on – inside the SUV with you. Time for bed." Jack took Ianto to the passenger side, and made sure he was settled in before tackling the Weevil. It wasn't that heavy – nothing Jack couldn't have handled. In fact... he should have just captured the Weevil alone to start with.

Jack jumped back into the SUV, and stole a glance of Ianto. His face was still pale, eyes closed, his head weakly left to lean against the car window.

No. He couldn't have left Ianto alone at the Hub.

Starting the engine, Jack waited until they were on the road to reach across and take Ianto's hand in his own. Ianto's eyes flew open, wide orbs fixed on Jack. He didn't say anything though, and the drive back to the Hub was in contented silence.

Jack stroking his thumb over Ianto's knuckles.

Dragging the Weevil to the vaults, dumping their dirty clothes in a forgotten heap – it wasn't the usual routine, but then again, it did qualify as special circumstances. Ianto's eyes were barely able to stay open, and Jack surprised himself with an sharp instinct to make sure the sheets were fully covering Ianto before hoping into bed himself.

Damn alcohol. It really had turned him into a sop. Although... that wasn't right, was it. Not the alcohol.

 _Ianto_.

As Jack curled himself around Ianto, letting his fingers trail across his skin, run once more through his hair, and end up folding his arm into in a perfect embrace of Ianto's waist, he felt the knowledge melting into him – as easily as Ianto was melting into his hold.

Jack pressed his lips lightly against the back of Ianto's neck, hoping that somehow, even though he couldn't say it – "I" _indeed_! – that he could convey it. That Ianto could know it.

"Merry Christmas, Ianto," Jack whispered into his skin. Ianto stirred but only let out a peaceful sigh, and unconsciously slipped his hand into Jack's, the one that was resting on Ianto's chest.

On Ianto's heart.

* * *

 **-End.**


End file.
